It's amazing how inspiration works sometimes. I can't guarantee it'll hold but I at least have an idea on how to begin the thing! Maybe. We'll see.

[Insert Title Card Here]

It is nearing time for leadership of the Wind Whistler clan to change claws, however, the sole heir is not impressed with how things are run and has no interest in owning the place. So when the Twisting Crescendo suddenly vanishes every opportunity is taken and she flees to solid ground, intent on starting a whole new clan of her own and searching for allies and potential clanmates along the way.

With her disappearance comes an uproar and several Whistlers set out in search of the missing heir. Without a leader the clan could fall apart under the demand it receives. Once the Crescendo returned and everyone acclimated to the reversed winds word began to spread of the issue. Other clans have become interested in using this to their advantage...

A death in the coliseum means that dragon must be exalted. This is the most essential rule of a nuzlocke.All loot obtained in the coliseum is irrelevant, as is the loot obtained from gathering.There are no restrictions about applying apparel to dragons. Do whatever makes sense. Same goes for familiars.All Nuzlocke activity corresponds with the loot you obtain daily from Pinkerton's plundered pile.

Personal Rules

Ilmatar cannot die until her role in the story is over.Readers can vote to prevent a dragon from dying. These dragons are considered "Beloved". Only 1/5th (rounded down) of current group size can be Beloved. Beloved dragons can have their status removed if the time feels right or people fall out of love with them.KO'd dragons have chance to survive. Flip a coin. If Tails, the dragon is dead for good.Dragons are not exalted until pronounced dead in the story. Dead dragons can be "rescued" by readers.Dragons that reach lv25 can be retired. If they do fight they cannot die.Guardians that are born into the clan must leave at 2 months of age to go on their Search (roll 1-100. If the roll is 90-100 their Charge involves the clan and will stay). Beloved Guardians will always travel with the clan to find their Charge or else have the clan be their Charge.Gifting is allowed. A familiar must be pulled before a gifted egg is allowed to hatch or a gifted dragon can join. Dragons must be level 1 to avoid cheating.Scavenged and gifted eggs are exempt from the coin flip when hatched and are allowed one breed change that must be applied by the next story entry or else be stuck as their initial breed.

Hard mode: You must select coliseum challengers in your lair using a random number generator. Then, select the coliseum arena that corresponds to the highest level dragon of that group. If your dragons level up while in an area, you can still stay there for the whole day. You can quit your battle streak at any time to regen health, and flee from battles if it is appropriate. Don't try do 50 matches in a row unless you want a wiped-out dragon! <-- This is the mode I'm using.

Medium mode: Same as hardmode except select the venue that is one tier down from that of highest level dragon.

Easy mode: Choose whichever team and venue you want and go for it.

MaterialsDo some writing for your Nuzlocke. How does your new Nuzlocke clan change and develop? What are your dragons like personality-wise? How do they get along? How do they die?Is there an antagonist in this Nuzlocke, or are they merely struggling against the forces of nature? Write dragon bios! Write short stories or paragraphs, or add to one big one adventure!

TrinketsFlip a coin.Heads = Do some art for your Nuzlocke! Digital or traditional, use whatever medium feels best for you. Draw deaths. Draw dragons. Draw humanized versions of your dragons (if that's your sort of thing). Draw familiars and dragons together. It doesn't have to be that good or elaborate.Tails = invite a guest dragon from a reader's lair!

Guest rulesAnyone at any time can offer one of their dragons to join the story for a single entry. When a guest is rolled the owner can specify what they'd like their dragon to do. Requests can be made when the dragon is offered but is best when the dragon is rolled as the next guest for a better idea for what to have them do.One dragon per person at any time. Once that dragon has performed in an entry the reader can offer a new dragon to show up. Ideally no repeats, though if enough time passes a guest may be allowed to return.Guest dragons are chosen via a random number generator to keep things interesting. It's less fun knowing who's going to show up next.Guest dragons can do anything the owner wants them to. Seriously. Have them be a shopkeeper the story dragons visit or a random passer-by, they could talk directly to the story dragons and offer advice, or they can be dancing on a rooftop for no other reason than for humour.If nothing is specified the guest will show up as is most fitting for the entry.

FamiliarsBuy the cheapest dragon in the auction house of a specific breed. Use a random number generator (between 1-14) to determine which breed you will get! (Optionally: attach the familiar to the new dragon.)

ApparelBreed two of your dragons. The dragons you pick are up to you. Flip a coin for each hatchling once they hatch. If tails, the dragon is dead and you must exalt it.ORChange one of the genes on a dragon, or use a scatterscroll if you are rich and crazy.

Battle ItemsFlip a coin.Heads = DEATH STREAKTails = Nothing happens

DEATH STREAK rules: Randomly select three dragons using a random number generator.Fight in the coliseum using the "food" rules 10 rounds consecutively (ie. you cannot leave that arena), quitting midway if a dragon dies.If you are using the easy mode rules, switch to the hard mode rules for battle stones.

LosingIf your dragon count falls to zero you have a few options1. Declare the challenge a "loss" and give up2. Wait for Pinkerton to drop a familiar3. Just say "welp" and buy another dragon from the AH without waiting for Pinkerton because you lack patience.

It has been many a generation since the founding of the Wind Whistler clan, whose floating lair serves as a midway point in the Windswept Plateau as it hovers between the vast city that is the Cloudsong and the landmasses that made up the Zephyr Steppes and Reedcleft Ascent. Kites dip and dive playfully on every bridge, windmills spin perpetually on top of houses and market stalls. Great balloons bob and bounce at the end of walkways, most offering bright colours to entertain the eyes and the biggest ones lashed to baskets could carry even the greatest Imperial through the air.

Linking ground to sky with an intricate system of rope ladders, walkways and platforms large enough to hold buildings it sees a lot of activity from dragons all over Sornieth. Young and old, able or unable, willing or unwilling of flight traverse the ever-expanding sky-town. And then, like the very winds the region was known for, they would leave in search of new thrills and wonders. The Whistler clan itself was tiny in comparison to the attention it drew but little effort was made to increase the permanent population. Instead they thrived in their small number, intent only to entertain the tourists that visited and maintain their skyborne home.

One dragon in particular is unimpressed by this.Ilmatar was bored of this tourist trap. That's all it was. There was nothing here for the actual clan members aside from offering wares traded from one set of guests to another. Most were kept too busy making sure the ropes were tight and stable, the platforms level and that everything was generally in working order. A good thing for sure, if it wasn't the only thing everyone did every day. Check this rope. Greet yet another Snapper who waddled up. Repair that balloon. Assist that Ridgeback that once again got his nose caught in a windmill. Fix this. Talk to them. Build that. Offer directions. Matar had managed to weasel her way out of doing much herself purely because no one ever noticed if she was there or not. Being brightly coloured meant nothing if no one was looking.

The red Coatl heaved another sigh, adding to the climbing total for that day alone as she peered down at the goings-on below her spot - a small, unfinished platform that could be another dock for hot air balloons. 'Could', as it hung forgotten at the highest point the lair yet reached. Too busy. Too few people to work on it. Too little interest in growing the clan. Matar rolled onto her back and let her head hang off the platform as she observed the green world below. She'd never been allowed down there. She had to stay and help. Not that anyone noticed if she did help. But every time she'd tried to make her way down some clan member would spot her, or a guest would try to talk to her. She was too bright in the clear blue sky to fly down and, most infuriatingly of all, someone had the great idea to tie bells to the lower levels to entertain guests on their way in and out. No matter what she tried, she'd fail. A rule set by her overprotective father who at the same time never knew if she even existed.

Aside from the odd job where she actively helped another dragon who would most definitely realise she had sneaked out this pattern continued. Heading to the little forgotten platform, watching everyone, sighing, dreaming of the world below, trying to go there and then be caught by some snub-nosed idiot who wanted to keep her safe. Safe. the snakelike dragon snorted to herself during her usual mid-afternoon sulk. I'm in danger of losing my freaking mind up here.

To make things even worse the clan leader was talking of stepping down soon due to poor health. Unfortunately for Matar the leader was her father. If there was one thing that was constant it was the passing of clan leadership from parent to child. Either gender could lead and sometimes multiple. That stopped happening when it was decided to make the place a massive tourist attraction. Not that it would matter this time as she was a lone egg to a sickly father and a mother who followed the winds like every other Wind dragon. Or well, like every other Wind dragon was supposed to.

Maybe it was her mother's leaving that caused her father to keep her close. Regardless she did not want to lead this stupid clan. It wasn't a real clan. They were only here for other dragons' amusement and little else. What they'd done was impressive, no doubt about that. But ask one of them how their family is or how the other members were and they'd probably give you a dumb look as they try to remember the last thing they talked about that wasn't work related. You'd think they were Lightning dragons working perpetually on some new invention. Ilmatar wanted to get away from it all. She wanted things to be different. This place could be so different. But if she inherited this clan nothing would change. No. She had to leave. She was more than old enough to leave. Her Wind instincts were screaming at her to leave. Make a new clan for herself, explore, meet people who wanted to talk about you not the stupid place you lived.

But how?

It was another few weeks when it finally happened. The break Matar had been hoping for. It startled everyone in the Windswept Plateau, possibly some outside as well. One day the mighty, eternal tornado stopped. Dissipated. Even the bored Coatl panicked as the skybound town began to fall from the air, only kept aloft by the air bladders used to keep them stable. Many walkways hung limply in the still air, others declared out of bounds due to how any kind of weight could cause them to capsize. The Whistlers all clamoured and set about tasks as usual, though this time it was to keep them from crashing into the sea. In fact activity had increased into a frenzy as every available hand hauled ropes, patched bladders, manually spun windmills and turbines in attempt to gain some kind of order.

It was perfect.

Once she had realised her opportunity Matar did what she could to slip past each frantic worker. No guests to bother her, the clan focused on the skytown... She made it all the way to the lower levels and practically keened with excitement that there were no guards stationed. Every. Hand. Every single one was working. Matar spread her feathery wings and glided casually over the annoying bells, settling at long last on grass and soil. Ground. Land. How long had she been up there? Too long. Her father flew her up there not long after she'd hatched in the nesting site somewhere in the Steppes.

Day 1Yay starting out immediately with some writing. I seriously have no clue yet where this is gonna go. The new character kinda wrote themselves which worries me xD

Chapter 1

Have you ever had a time where you were stuck inside for a long period of time? Where all you could feel was the floorboards or tiles or carpet? And then finally you go outside and feel grass underfoot? For almost her entire life Ilmatar had been forced to walk the wooden walkways of the Wind Whistler “lair”. She'd all but forgotten how anything else would feel. It was difficult, oh so difficult to contain her joy, the sensation of freedom as she fled far enough away from the accursed floating structure. Any noise just yet could give her away. Or she was so used to being snatched back that it felt as such.

Eventually it could be held back no longer. After her mad dash across the rolling plains Matar just about screamed her jubilation. To be free. No watchful father, no annoying tourists, no busy-body clanmates who barely registered they were a clan. Sky and ground flipped over one another as the Coatl threw herself into the long grass, rolling around in the green and savouring the scent. A paw snatched at the blades, dextrous fingers pulled them apart, scattered them. A plant was kicked, spewing a silver stream of fluffy seed pods. Ilmatar watched in wonder as they were carried away. She'd seen things caught in the breeze but never had the chance to see from where they came, or where they went.

Time passed and yet the excitement continued. A writhing mass of red feathers and limbs flailed in amongst a viridian sea. Plants were plucked, trees were swung from, animals that were not birds were chased. Eventually it all caught up at once, sending the feathered serpent sliding lazily down an incline where she collapsed, panting, face split in a wide grin. Oh yes. This was bliss...

“You done yet?”

Matar was on her feet in an instant, still breathing hard. At some point during her revelry she had been spotted. “And who the hell are you?” the Coatl hissed, puffing out her wings and splaying her head crest threateningly.

Atop the hill Matar had just slid down stood a dark shape. Bipedal, sharp claws, long snout... Wildclaw? It had gotten dark since her flight and the newcomer's colouration was hard to make sense of much against the darkening skies.

The figure shrugged. “Just some random bystander wondering what the fuss is about.”

Matar kept her aggressive stance as she flicked out her forked tongue, attempting to glean something from the still air. They made it easier for her by sliding down the slop to join her. “So. You okay? You kinda slipped there. And there was yelling. I thought you might be hurt.”

The Coatl deflated somewhat as the Wildclaw came down. An eye ridge raised in confusion as she stared at the... tiny... dragon. “Um.” She started, not quite sure what to make of the situation. Their eyes bothered her too. Wind, like hers, but so much darker. “I'm fine?”

The dark dragon cocked their head, crest swaying with the motion. “You don't seem to be?”

Two pairs of green eyes locked onto one another as each side tried to figure out what was happening. Matar blinked. The Wildclaw blinked. A red paw lifted, a finger pointing. “Aren't you kinda young to be out here alone? So late?”

“Aren't you?” Matar's jaw dropped. “You might wanna close that. I think I can see Shadowbinder in there.”

The Coatl continued to gawk, plumage splayed backwards in sheer bafflement, until she managed to sputter out, “I- what. I'm more than old enough to be on my own, thank you very much!” She punctuated the statement by slamming her previously pointed paw on the ground. The glare returned. Just who the heck does this dragon think they were? They looked like they'd barely reached adolescence and deserved to still be in a nesting cave. And yet... they seemed so sure of themselves. And why would a young Wind dragon know about Shadowbinder?

Shrugging the Wildclaw turned their back on Matar, flicking their tail, expression unreadable. “Well you seem okay physically at any rate. Dunno about mentally.” Matar hissed at that, offended. “You should return to your clan. Or whatever.” They began to saunter off without waiting for a reply. The red Coatl stared after them, still processing what just happened. However the oddly small Wildclaw didn't go very far before testing a spot beneath a large bamboo cluster, pulling out a sheet of some material and flumping on the ground with the sheet pulled around them.

“Uh...” Ilmatar tried, words failing.

The sleek head lifted to look at her. “Yes?”

She tried again. “Don't you have a clan to get back to? I don't imagine it's safe for someone like you to be out here.”

The other dragon blinked slowly, though it didn't appear that they hadn't understood. Simply chose not to express anything. “No.” They replied simply and lay back down.

Silence fell between them. Ilmatar sat down heavily and stared into the distance. What. Why. Who. Questions swam in her mind as the events of the last few minutes fought to settle into something comprehensible. It never happened. She looked back over at the young Wildclaw, watching the material rise and fall as they breathed. Asleep already. No other clans that she knew of inhabited this area. Most were in their own sky-towns or in amongst the cliffs and bamboo forests. Could they have been abandoned? They didn't act like it...

Her eyes briefly settled on the silhouette of the ailing mass of the Whistler lair hanging despondently on the horizon. Had she really made it that far out? It was then that reality struck. She had nothing. Nowhere. No food, no supplies, no shelter... and no knowledge of the surrounding lands. Who was this person? Why did they act like that? ...Why was she worried? She should be worrying about herself. Her jaws parted as a yawn escaped. In the morning. Figure it out in the morning. Rising to her feet the feathery dragon padded over to another bamboo cluster, where she curled up.

Day 4...I actually don't know what to do here. I have ideas for genes but my Pinkerlocke lair doesn't have gems and I'm reluctant to try buying any since it'd share the same card as my main lair. Hurm.I guess suggestions are open for this one!

Ilmatar, with new Scales cos I wanted rid of the Circuit and not much else looked good to me. Could also be good for story.

This has been super fun to follow! I'm impressed with your coli ability, too. And Ilmatar looks fantastic with Scales!

As for what now... Hmmm! I think Capsule honestly looks really nice on Ahio. Getting it may be tricky, though- unless you can be stealthy about making it on your main lair and sending it to the Locke lair.

I actually can afford to buy a Capsule scroll from the AH and it does look good on him. However I'm not quite sure how to RP a dragon with Capsule, especially in gaining it. And the two are too pretty otherwise to change so murr. After some serious thought about it I decided instead to look at the dragon I haven't introduced in the story yet. Those of you who paid attention to the first few posts will know who that is. For those who don't... well, look forward to the next RP update!

...which may be a while yet.

Day 5Pinkerton does not want me to write! In the meantime I netted myself a dryland drifter girl with unusual eyes

You could have one of your visitors give you the capsule as a gift ? Or find it under a rock/from an animal/dragon drank a potion and is suddenly effected by the change ? I suck at rp but wanted to give you some suggestions

Gene application would be similar to maturing into adult patterns or mutations/potions etc. Potions would be made by other dragons or even beastclan. Scrolls don't technically exist in the RP-verse. What I was more worried about was how would a dragon react to having their belly be made of glass filled with some odd sloshing liquid and how is it flexible? xD I always appreciate suggestions however

Day 6

Chapter 2

“So... where are you from? I don't think I've seen anyone like you before.”

“Doesn't matter.”

“O-kay. Why are you out here?”

“Nowhere else to go.”

“What about your clan?”

Ahio, as his name had been revealed during prior conversation, was decidedly silent at that question. Every other time Matar had probed him the Wildclaw had replied in a similar manner as the last few times. Short. Vague. Matar had been irritated by the way he'd replied but was content with any answer than none. It wasn't that he was disinterested in chatting. In fact he seemed perfectly happy to satiate the Coatl's curiosity. So the sudden lack of response was out of place.

Ilmatar tilted her feathered head, even though Ahio was ahead and not looking back. “Uh, hello?” The young Wildclaw briefly shot a glance over his shoulder, face emotionless as ever, then turned back to the invisible path he'd set himself. The red dragon's quills puffed out a little, remaining against her slender neck. Annoyed, yet unsettled. Clearly he didn't want to talk about it. So she tried something else. “I guess you're avoiding it for a reason. I ran away from home too.”

“Why would you do that?” the Wildclaw asked without looking back or stopping.

Matar's plumes lifted and splayed in irritation and she rapidly flicked her tongue a few times. “Cos it's not a real clan.” she spat, disgusted at her previous home. “There are so few of us and all they do is focus on making other dragons happy by turning our lair into a tourist hotspot.”Ahio glanced back momentarily, a glint of interest in his eye. The Coatl took this as an invitation to continue. “No one knows each other any more. They barely remember we were even a clan at one point. All they do is talk to that dragon, build a new thing, give that dragon a tour, fix that windmill.” She heaved a sigh not dissimilar to the ones she'd let out back home. “Clans look after each other. We grow, we make a community. Not forget our own neighbours to satisfy strangers!”

Ahio chuckled. Genuine humour. That gave the runaway Coatl pause already but what really made her stop was that the chuckle came from behind her. In her rant she'd failed to notice that her companion had stopped walking. Shooting him an inquisitive glance Matar's light green eyes turned to scan what was ahead of them. And her jaw dropped.

It had been easy to memorise the layout of the Plateau from her perch. She'd known they were headed roughly north through the plains of the Zephyr Steppes that spanned out far from the traditional nesting sites. She even knew what the Reedcleft Ascent had looked like. It was one thing to look at it from afar, however, and another entirely to experience it for one's self.

The land underfoot had began to crack and split. Hillocks became tiny cliffs, smooth faces lifting the ground into the air. Gradually these cliffs grew taller, taller until they broke away from the ground completely. Columns of earth pushing their way skywards, carrying with them a piece of their own, private garden. Most were grassy. Others had flowers. Yet more held up clusters of tall bamboo canes. The biggest of all kept their own forests. To add to it, the further one set foot amongst the towering pillars the more the ground gave way beneath them. Pulling away from the mainland, making their own private islands had caused it to rip and tear. Dips became valleys until the ocean itself was visible between the giant stacks.

Ilmatar could not help but stare in amazement at the formations. One of many of Sornieth's natural wonders. Only the Twisting Crescendo would trump it had it still been active. Lifting her head high and closing her eyes the red Coatl could imagine how this place would sound. Bamboo, grass and leaves rustling, the waters below churning and splashing against the bases of each pillar. The wind singing as it passed the needle-like islands. She smiled. It was places like this that she'd yearned to see for herself since she was a hatchling. Only the joy quickly subsided as a sharp pain in her chest reminded her; without the Crescendo, there was no wind. She listened. The water sloshed lethargically. Some animals inhabiting the segregated worlds lowed or bleated or chirped. No singing. No playful crackling. It was alive but almost... empty.

“Why do you think the Crescendo stopped?” Ilmatar found herself asking, voice tight as sadness gripped her throat. Her long neck twisted so her gaze settled on the dark-coloured Wildclaw. He simply shrugged, not nearly as affected by either the grandeur of their surroundings or the lack of wind as she was.

Silence hung between them for a spell. Her mind full of the missing things not considered when the event that allowed her to escape took place. He stood, staring. Impossible to read.

How long will this last?

Without the winds the Plateau had nothing. The mighty tornado had pulled in cold air from the south, keeping the region cool and comfortable. Everything relied on the wind. The balloons used for transport, the windmills for power and grinding. Skyborn lairs like hers sagged miserably as air bladders struggled to keep them aloft. Would the Wind Whistler clan fall into the sea? She took a deep breath. And started coughing. Without the currents the very air around them was stagnant, still. Flying took far more effort without the breeze and thermals to lift and guide them. Even the birds had taken to staying on the ground let alone dragons.

Matar's reverie was broken by the sound of tapping claws. She looked over at Ahio as he rhythmically tapped the long talons on his feet. Was he getting impatient? Why? The Wildclaw caught her gaze and returned it with his own.

“What?” Ilmatar demanded, more than a little put off.

“Why are we just standing here?”

She flicked her long tongue at him. “Because I've never been out this far and I was imagining what it might be like if the wind was blowing here?” He stared. “Do you seriously not care?”

“Not really.” Ahio stated bluntly as he lifted a paw to scratch at one of the gem-like growths on his shoulder. Ilmatar raised an eye ridge. He had been doing that frequently since they'd met but never acknowledged it when she asked. Tilting her head slightly the red dragon considered pressing again as other dragons she'd seen with a similar look didn't seem bothered by it. Some even flaunted it. She decided against trying again, expecting the same response.

“Whatever.” Matar said presently, rolling her eyes. “Let's go explore or whatever it is you want to do out here.

Wordlessly the Wildclaw threw himself into the sky. Despite his diminutive size he was still an able flyer despite the lack of wind. Matar clicked her tongue irritably before doing the same. Her wings strained to keep her aloft as they continued to head northwards, occasionally landing on and hopping between the stacks.

Little did they know that, as they made their way forwards, a pair of large red eyes followed them intently from behind a fallen redwood log blown in from the powerful gusts a long time ago. A dark shape slithered out and coiled between the bamboo stems, cackling quietly in their pursuit.

I tend to think of Capsule abstractly, because I ran into the same problem with it :,D I can't really imagine it existing as a glass container of liquid. For red tones, I sometimes imagine it to be transparent belly skin showing all the Internal Workings, though that's a very strictly gorey take on it. But maybe it could also be something like a lizard/amphibian's throat, where the off-colar bit is for display, and can be inflated or maybe flares out like an Anole neck? Or maybe he has a layer of Shade or something else ominous growing over his stomach!

Yeah Nuz/Pinkerlockes are brutal and a lot of heartstrings get tugged along the way. If you're good/lucky enough it is possible to get through without a single death. But well... I'm better at bringing other people luck than I am being lucky myself.

Reminder that there is a rule wherein readers can "rescue" dead dragons before they are exalted if they so wish, and dead dragons are not exalted until announced dead in the story. So if anyone wants Ahio before the next material shows up, let me know!

Day 8

Okay this is really getting silly. New rule: If I get too many apparel items too quickly or my dragons are unable to breed and I'm happy with their genes to want to change them at that point, I will stockpile the ability to breed/swap genes for a better time. Suggestions for genes are of course still accepted in the meantime and I do accept gene and scatterscrolls as gifts. I really am regretting buying already gened dragons though Recommend starting with blank slates should anyone else attempt this.

Day 9Warning: Potentially disturbing content and feels. Proceed with caution.

Chapter 3

He'd caught up with them in the night.

The pair of wandering dragons had stopped to camp on one of the bigger stacks in the area, attempting to use the bamboo for cover. It was of little help, the Coatl's brilliant red plumage practically a beacon in the darkness. Once he'd found her it wasn't long before he found the other. A slight hand movement. A vial in his grasp. His long face split in an impossibly large grin. Carefully he parted their lips and dripped a drop of the tonic into their waiting mouths. He coiled up on himself a little away and waited.

Oh ho, this was going to be fun!

Morning came, the sun's rays caressing scale and feather with warmth and promise of days ahead. Matar groaned. She felt like something heavy was sitting on her. Every part of her slim body felt like lead. Was it the lack of food? The constant travel? What slim pickings they'd passed by had sustained them this far but it would only last so long. Maybe then.

“Aiiiioooo?” she drawled groggily. Wow it was worse than she thought. Her mouth was dry, her tongue weighted, her throat thick. Was she ill? “Ahhh-yoooo?” Again the name refused to form, falling flat from her jaws. Blearily the Coatl opened her eyes as best as was able to look at her companion.

Ahio was on his side, splayed out as if he'd fallen. Nothing like how he usually slept. His cloth was in a crumpled heap behind him. Something had disturbed him earlier perhaps. But what? The Wildclaw was in a similar state to herself, barely managing to move, unable to comprehend anything. “Muuurrrr...?” was all he could manage as he weakly reached a thin arm towards her.

“Well well! Look who's awake!” Crowed a far-too-loud and far-too-happy voice. With great difficulty both dragons forced their heads around to see who had spoken, cringing at the volume and effort. “Oh no, don't do that!” the voice practically shouted at them. “Here, let me.” An insane giggle filled their ears, making them flinch, as a long, sinuous black form slid into their view.

A Spiral, dark of scale, red of wing. His hands alternated between rubbing, clapping and clasping in hyperactive eagerness only his kind could manage. Staring eyes already large were wide and wild like a child who had been given the gift they'd always wanted. Excitement caused his long body to sway and curl, no part of it remaining still. Except that damnable grin.

“Wwwaaaahhht dyooooo doooo-” Ahio began, only for a slender finger to press itself against his lips, silencing him.

“Shhh, shhhhhh.” the Spiral hissed soothingly, lifting the hand and patting the Wildclaw on the cheek. “Hush now. Rest now. I just needed some, hee hee, subjects to play with!” In a dark flash he slithered from view behind the bamboo cluster, only to emerge seconds later with a box. He placed it delicately between the pair and began rummaging, eliciting a series of clinking sounds. Glass. Bottles?

Bottles. The Spiral withdrew two rounded vials with his hands and a large beaker with his tail. A sickening laugh erupted from his maw as both vials' contents were spilled into the empty container, which he then began stirring vigorously. The colour looked wrong. Simply wrong. He then tossed in a handful of assorted mushroom caps that Matar did not recognise and continued stirring. Once satisfied with his work the Spiral undulated over to the Coatl and started to pry her jaws apart. She resisted, but in her weakened state ultimately failed and the noxious mixture ran down her throat...

Matar convulsed painfully as the potion took effect. A few feet from her Ahio was doing the same, writhing in the short grass, eyes wild, head and tail thrashing uncontrollably. Her body felt stiff and sore and like it was cracking in places. Her head spun, making her dizzy and nauseous. Nothing worked. She told herself to get up. To attack their aggressor. Her body didn't respond as she continued to flail. All the while the insane Spiral cackled, zipping between the two. The laughter hurt. His movement nothing more than a black-and-red streak in her swimming vision.

Then the sound. That horrible, horrible sound that would haunt the Coatl for years to come. Ahio's screams of agony started to gurgle, like there was something in his throat. Matar tried and tried to look at him properly, only to vomit as the movement sent everything into a whirlpool of confusion. The gurgling got worse, every cry sounded like he'd been submerged. Then the coughing. The choked, drowned coughing. Even without seeing what was happening to her companion Matar managed a scream. Weak, but full of emotion.

“Hee hee, hah ha! Hah ha-ha-hee- wait, no. No! That's not what was supposed to happen!” The Spiral's cackling broke into a terrified shriek, piercing the bright dragon's skull. Blackness blotted her view as he began doing... something to Ahio. “No. No no. No no no! No! N-Argh!”

Suddenly a force akin to a gale shot past, rustling the dry grass and Matar's feathers violently. The Spiral went flying, the target of the attack. A sound like wind chimes sang soothingly in her ears as something pale landed gracefully nearby. A second pulse, forced from a slender throat too small to possibly unleash such power, another cry of shocked pain. All the while Ahio coughed, strangled, drowning in whatever was forming in his own neck.

Matar screamed again pitifully, petering out into a faint squeaking, trying to reach out. Her skin cracked again, forcing her arm back. Tears streaked her reptilian face, matting her feathers. Why did it hurt? What had the bastard done to them?

Wind chimes sang to her again. Peaceful, playful. Like the ones back home. “Rest.” said a calm, almost sing-song voice. “It will be over soon.” Matar struggled to look up. That voice. She knew that voice. But a slim hand was placed on her broad snout, gently pushing her down. “Rest.” So she did.

Consciousness returned. And with it, pain. So, so much pain. Ilmatar begged the Windsinger to please let her go back to blissful death. Stillness. Silence. Only throbbing, terrible pain and the taste of vomit in her mouth. She coughed, her whole body protesting with the sudden movement. Reluctantly the Coatl slowly opened her eyes. They were still in the same place. Just a dream? Had they eaten something bad? The water maybe? Plaguelands were north of the Wind domain right? Maybe... Maybe...

Ahio.

Every inch of her long, feathered body ached and complained as she forced herself to roll over onto her feet where she wobbled uncertainly, took a few shaky steps, collapsed again. Panting, head still spinning, Matar slowly, carefully shifted her gaze to where the Wildclaw had been. Had been. He wasn't there. Flattened, broken grass indicating a struggle was the only sign of his previous location. Maybe he'd already recovered and gone to clean up? the Coatl thought hopefully. “Ahio?” she rasped, followed by a short coughing fit. Water. She needed water. As she attempted to right herself once more the familiar chiming sound filled her head. Looking up revealed a blurry, pale-coloured shape moving in her direction. Fast. Graceful. Unfocused Matar turned to face the newcomer, who landed a few feet away. They approached. She approached. They met halfway, the figure waiting for her. Words tried to form in her mouth only to turn to dust as her jaws opened, loosing only choked noises.

A thin finger pressed to her lips. Kind, unlike the one the Spiral had lain on Ahio's snout. The Spiral! She swung her head around to try and catch sight of the one who'd done this to her. Bad idea, bad, bad idea. She fell onto her side as the world heaved beneath her. “Rest.” the voice said again as a hand parted her jaws and the sweet, sweet sensation of water rushed over her swollen tongue. She drank deeply. Then sputtered. “Careful.” said the mysterious-yet-familiar voice. “You don't want to bring yourself further harm by inhaling it.” Matar was too weak to retort, instead obeying by taking smaller gulps.

When at last she'd had her fill the bright Coatl asked, “W-Where... is Ah... Ahee-o?” It still hurt to talk, like she'd swallowed ash.

The figure, now recognisable as a Skydancer, hung her head. “I am sorry.”

NOOOO AHIO ;_; oh lord, way to punch me in the heart, Vare! I'm excited to know more about this skydancer, and maybe who or what this horrible spiral is- but the slowly growing bond between Matar and Ahio being cut short really kills me.

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